le Maroc
by Gold-Eyed-Fox
Summary: Morocco- An African country across waters from Spain. First country to recognize America as independent. Friends with Egypt and Russia, and daughter of France.
1. Prologue

1672-

A small figure opened her dark almond eyes for the first time. Her hair was a few shades lighter than her eyes, and seemed to glow in the bright sun. Her short figure wore an elegant dress-like robe which covered all the skin from her neck and under, save for her tanned hands, which peeked out from the large folds of the long sleeves. The robe was an ivory color and had a large orange and yellow over-robe hung on top of it. Patterns of suns, stars and snakes wove their way around vine on the front. The little being rose to her feet at took a few steps forward.

The distant sounds of horse hooves thumping across the dusty ground caught the attention of the small girl. She turned, and saw figures approaching in the distance on horseback. A regal looking man lead the way, and he started slowing down when he caught sight of the small child standing in the desert. The men following him copied his movements and eventually came into a trot with him a few feet in front of the girl.

"What is your name, girl?" The man asked sternly, staring down at her in disapproval.

"Morocco"

1777-

The girl, now appearing to be in her teenage years, stood next to a new man, this one seeming a little more lenient. He turned towards her. "Zahrah, did you hear? Apparently last year, Britain's Thirteen Colonies became independent, and is now calling himself "The United States of America".

Morocco's eyes glittered. "Really? We should become friends! According to Spain there is lots of land out there that has very nice resources. Do you think we could?"

The king smiled, "Of course, Morocco."

1822-

"Sir!" Morocco called. "Look at all these cool things that Lovino showed me!" She held up a beautiful painting. The King smiled. "That's wonderful, Morocco, why don't you try to get him to teach you some painting techniques.

1844-

Morocco lay sobbing at the feet of a blond with shoulder-length hair wearing an elegant blue robe that seemed to be flowing in an invisible wind.

"Come on, you're mine now." He said, calmly. "We need to get you out of those atrocious clothes."

"No!" Morocco exclaimed angrily, glaring at the older man through her tears. "You may have taken my freedom, France, but you can't take my customs!"

France looked down at the girl beneath him in exasperation. "Fine, I'll allow you to keep your customs, but you must listen to what I say and accommodate any of my people who wish to live hear. We will control all trading, and major political decisions."

Morocco nodded miserably, knowing that she was lucky to be able to keep that much.

1859-

France looked critically at the cold Morocco was suffering from, which was brought on by a bad economy. "Morocco," He said, sounding slightly worried. "Maybe you should try to expand your trading routes and relations with other countries, you have good land for farming, and mines for salt and copper, but perhaps instead of holding onto your resources, in case of a famine, you should start trading for money. Your people are suffering."

Morocco nodded her head miserably. "_Oui, Papa._"

1894-

Morocco bounced happily. "_ Papa, Papa! Regardez!_ I have so many new friends! Italy, Spain, America! Yay!"

France nodded, smiling, "Well done, _ma fille_. You have grown." and indeed she had, instead of the young teenager she had stayed as for the last hundred years, Morocco seemed to be in her later teens, looking to be around 20 or so.

1904-

"_Non! _Morocco is my responsibility! You will not have her!" France slammed his hands on the table, effectively silencing Germany. France glared sternly at the blonde country, who had dared to propose such an preposterous idea. His eyes seemed to be shooting lasers at the younger country. Spain sat next to France, a scowl set on his usually kind face.

"Morocco would benefit from having me as a guardian. I am much more reliable than some french **pervertieren**!" Germany growled., causing France to narrow his eyes.

"England and France have both agreed that I will be her protectorate with France, stay out of my business you salchichas tonto!" Spain barked, his mouth set in a firm line.

"Alright, if that is your response, I will just have to use other methods to have Morocco under my authority." Was Germany's response before standing up swiftly and walking towards the door. Just before he left he swiftly turned around, "Germany will have control over Morocco." before swiftly leaving.

1930-

France lay in bed, still suffering from Germany's vicious attacks. Morocco walked in, eyes filled with sadness, but a fierce determination shining in their depths.

"_Chere p__è__re_, you have suffered much in this war. My people have begun to get restless, and wish independence from you and Spain. Please grant their wish."

France looked at the nation that he had housed for the last 86 years with eyes filled with sadness. His blue eyes watered, his little girl- his _petite fille_ wanted to leave him. No, he would not allow it to happen, she was safe with him, he controlled her military, his superior battle strategies kept her safe. Spain was her only other main ally, and without him, there was a chance that Spain would leave her. Was that what she wanted? To be alone, with no protection from countries like Algeria, who was forever threatening her borders?

"_Non_, I will not allow it, you are safe with me, stay."

1953-

"France! This is an outrage! How could you do this to me, your _peu une_!" Morocco barged into the room, glaring at the romantic country. France looked up from his paperwork.

"Morocco- Zahrah. Please, listen to your _papa_, I know what I'm doing. You cannot have that man as your leader. He is a bad influence on you, and is trying to separate us. I had to replace him, he gave me no choice."

France's daughter glared at him."Don't think that using my human name is going to change anything! I want to be free, you're breathing down my neck. I need space, space you obviously won't give me. I'll tell Spain about what you're doing, he won't be happy." She warned, her voice rising.

"Spain agrees with me, you need to be controlled. You are too reckless." France snapped back, losing his patience.

1956-

"I'm sorry, France. I need to be free, and you won't allow that." Morocco looked at her father figure straight in the eye. A stack of papers sat before her on the table. Across from the rebelling country sat France. He looked weak and tired, his form was slumped over the papers.

"Please, reconsider this, I love y-"

"I know, but we both know you can't control both me and Algeria with such a weak army that you have right now. Spain has agreed to let me become independent later this year. You've lost." Morocco cut him off. "I'm sorry, _mon p__è__re_, you are special to me, but your reign can not go on." She signed the papers in front of her, and across from the soon-to-be independent country, France did the same.

Lucky's corner.~

Hi people! I randomly decided to make an OC for Hetalia. I've tried writing stories, but I an't focus on stuff for long. So I'm going to publish a series of one-shot kinda things. Umm... you'll get it if you keep watching. So yeah. The OC I made is one of Morocco, since I've had a simple interest in Morocco for a few years. The culture is very interesting, I absolutely love foreign cultures, they are so different from America's... even the UK's is dissimilar, it's absolutely intriguing... anyway. I'd love it if you reviewed!

^^!

Disclaimer: I own nothing in this story except my portrayal of Morocco.


	2. 1664 to 1696

1664-

_Tribes across the expanse of desert and mountains were being brought together by the new rule of__Mulay r-Rishid, an Alaouite king. Using his followers to carry on the message, "The West" was a country, ruled by a king. A military to defend them from other peoples would form, and new laws which would help hold families together would be made. The only draw back was; if you revolted, death would be your punishment. Some of the messengers were met by resistance, but word was spreading._

1665-

_Slowly, the people were coming around, and a few trade routes had been established with Egypt._

1666-

_Many people west of the mountains had joined the new kingdom, some were forced, while others came willingly. However, an army in the south was not willing to join, and blood was spilled on the deserts of Morocco._

1667-

_Morocco, the small child discovered by King Mulay caused celebration within the walls of the castle. The King cautioned all that if the newly found country was to be spoken of outside, punishment would be dealt accordingly. Which, of course meant torture or death. So not a word was spoken of the small child hidden behind thick doors inside the most heavily guarded room in the palace. Not even the king was so submerged in security, for he understood that without the girl in his charge, there would be no kingdom to rule, and no people to govern. And the girl stayed behind closed doors, in a small world of luxury, although, no matter how Mulay tried to hide it, many of the tribes within his lands were suffering, and it was obvious in the way that bruises would appear on Morocco, or small cut would suddenly start bleeding after the king was forced to destroy a particularly violent tribe which revolted. _

1672-

A messenger ran through the streets of Morocco's capitol. "The king has died! The king has died! His brother will rule in his stead! Moulay Ismaïl Ibn Sharif will be the new king! Spread the news!" He shouted, voice ringing as he sprinted towards the palace.

Finally reaching the doors, he alerted a guard. "The king has fallen off his horse, and died, spread the news!" The guard nodded briskly before leaving to inform the other peoples inside the palace.

It was an hour before a small child in a well-lit room heard of the king's passing. She wept, for a country is always sad when it's first ruler dies, especially when they were as kind as this one. A sadness swept through the land, and it grew as the new king, Moulay Ismaïl Ibn Sharif, showed his ugly side.

1679-

A raging battle swept across Morocco's lands. War cries and the clashing of swords rang throughout the country. In the middle of the fray, a small brunet girl was slashing at a much taller man wearing a ridiculously puffy hat and a mask.

"Leave me alone, Ottoman!" The girl growled, earning a chuckle from the older man.

"I'm afraid that I can't do that, Morocco. It seems that you have some great lands here, I don't think I would mind having them for my own." A sinister smile painted itself on his face, as he slashed at Morocco. She blocked it with the small, curving knife held in her hands, before deftly twisting away his sword and piercing his side with her silver dagger, causing him to fall to his knees in pain. Glaring at her through his mask, he yelled at his men to retreat, before stumbling away.

1682-

"I thought I told you to leave these lands!" Morocco yelled, slicing at The Ottoman Empire with her ever present curved dagger.

"I won't be defeated by a mere child!" Ottoman growled out, attempting to stab at Morocco's chest. Morocco danced away from the blade, but her arm still managed to obtain a nice cut that started dribbling blood down her arm at a steady pace. However, despite her young age, she merely hissed and continued with the deadly dance that wove throughout the battlefield. After a few minutes of jabbing, slashing and blocking, Morocco managed to land a blow the sliced deep into his flesh above his heart, causing the older nation to clutch his chest. A call for retreat by The Ottoman Empire rang through Morocco's lands for the second time in the last three years.

1696-

Again, the Ottoman Empire was forced to retreat from Morocco's lands. This time, a limp was apparent as he retreated. "You win Morocco, these lands are yours. Don't make me regret letting you keep them." Was Ottoman's final words, before he left Morocco to her work. He figured she had to recover, from being in a war so early in her life. She had passed his test, now she was ready for the world.

_The countries surrounding Morocco heard of her battles with Ottoman, and respect for her was shown in the eyes of the other nations who walked through Africa or sailed by it's coasts. While it was true that she had not fully recovered, indeed, her very own people were in suffering caused by their king, no nations dared attack her, so moved on the most important problems, her people's leader. _

_ For while he created the largest army Morocco ever housed, with over 150,000 men at his command, his legendary cruelty was said to be monstrous, and indeed, it was. When the war with the Ottoman Turks was finished, he ordered 10,000 of the heads of his fallen enemies to hand on the walls of morocco's capitol, where they hung until weather and ware tore them down, their rotting eyes swelling out of their revolting faces until crows picked them out. 25,000 slaves was the number he had under his commands, and his command alone. _

Ismail watched from his throne as a slave walked towards him, and presented a gift from his people, which was most likely to placate his horrible temper. The slave bowed down before him, lowering his head and raising the offering above himself, he shook with the effort of holding whatever was inside the parcel up. The slave still bowed under his stony gaze, and after a few minutes of cold staring, the slave dropped the gift onto the floor, and a cracking noise rang through the room. Ismail rose from his seat.

"How dare you destroy a gift from the people to their king? Your disrespect is disgusting, your only fair penalty is death!" He roared, making the windows shudder from their reverbrations.

_And so it went..._

Lucky's Corner

Hi, a new chapter already! I know their short, but if I make them too long, I get bored... since I have such a horrible attention span. So, at least I update regularly! Not all of this is historically accurate, since I only took about a week to study Morocco, including culture (food, music, traditions, religion, etiquette ect.) history, and international relations. Sooooo... that's a lot to cover, don't expect it to be perfect. This story really is just a way for me to remember my research on Morocco. **I'd love it if people R&R** (_Hint hint)_, and thank you to ultimatebishoujo21 for reviewing!


End file.
